Don't Think
by fideliusfelicis
Summary: Draco comes to Hermione wounded, she's left alone in a safe house with no word from the Order. After spending months as each other's company, both are given missions that separate them. Originally a one-shot, may make following chapters their own story, was fond of the one-shot.
1. Chapter 1

He came to her almost every night. The _almost_ was speaking lightly. As soon as he was sure she was asleep, he would enter her room, lie next to her, and hold her. Every morning, before she awoke, he would sneak out as if it never happened. He would never mention it. She would let him pretend there was nothing going on. In fact, the company was nice. She would never tell him, but it kept away the nightmares. She just wished she wouldn't wake to a cold bed every morning.

Of course she understood his need for company. She rarely saw anyone beside him anyway. It had been months since Harry and Ron had checked in, months since she had received orders from the Light, months since there had been any news. What was going on out there? How many lives had been lost? She knew they were reaching a precipice. The final battle could be happening right now, but how would she know, being stuck here, in the gray. Everything in the safe house was gray. Everything spoke of abandonment, isolation, loneliness.

When he had arrived nearly four months ago, beaten, broken, bloody, she wasn't sure what to do. She thought it was a trick. She was sure more Death Eaters would be right behind him until she saw the armband. Orange. A phoenix. He had defected. How had she not known this? She would kill Harry and Ron, if they survived this, for not keeping her updated. The left her behind to research, of course, figuring having access to a full library would be helpful than her being on the move constantly with them.

It had helped, at first, until Hedwig stopped delivering messages, until Pig, left in Hermione's care, stopped being able to deliver hers. That was almost six months ago. So when _he_ of all people showed up on her doorstep four months ago, she was taken aback. Never being one to let her fear overtake her, she set to work mending, healing, and patching his wounds. After setting him up in a bedroom, it was three weeks before she saw him again. Even then, it was sporadic, him taking most of his meals in his room, unable to look her in the eye, unable to thank her for saving his life.

It wasn't until he had been there for a full month that he began coming to her. It wasn't until two months ago that he began taking regular meals with her. It wasn't until a month ago that he began helping her research. Perhaps he was feeling the claustrophobia seeping through the safe house as well. For all its size, being a manor taken and held by the Order when the owner was sent to Azkaban to await trial, it could have been Hagrid's hut back at Hogwarts.

The continued lack of communication from the outside made everything worse.

She was beginning to notice things about him… the circles under his eyes, the specks of blue in the cold steel, the elegant way his fingers flipped pages. Everything about him was beautiful, generations of perfect breeding. She shook her head at this thought. It was ridiculous to think of pureblood breeding tactics as anything near perfection. Yet, there was something in the way the limited light shined off his hair, the fluid way he moved. He was beautiful.

Their daily conversations avoided the war and any mention of their past. It was an unspoken agreement. Both had lost. Both had hurt. Instead, they focused on speaking of art and literature. The Death Eater who had lived here had a profound collection. Draco, it seemed, was well read in both muggle and wizard literature. Hermione suppressed a smile. As much as she loved Harry and Ron, they were never much for intellectual conversation.

He was slightly snoring next to her now, his warm breath tickling the back of her neck with every exhale. She knew the feel of his body, hard in all the right places, warm and safe. She had always thought he'd be cold to the touch. His scent intoxicated her and there was nowhere to escape it, not that she wanted to. It was something distinctly him. She sighed and settled herself against him, for a moment not caring if they ever escaped this place, if her best friends ever returned, if this damn war ever ended.

She wasn't surprised when he was gone the next morning, but the bed was warmer than usual. He had stayed later. Maybe his thoughts mirrored hers… or maybe she should get up and get ready for the day.

The scent of coffee, bacon, and eggs brought her pajama-clad self to the kitchen, Draco perched against the counter holding two steaming mugs.

"Something came." He said, not meeting her eyes.

She stood in the doorway. Surely he was mistaken. Neither of them had received a single piece of post since he had been there, but the messily wrapped parcel was on the table, no note attached.

"Think it's safe?" She asked, reaching for a mug, unsure of how to feel.

"Well, it has to be from the Order, right? They're the only ones who know this is a safe house?" He still wasn't directly speaking to her and it was beginning to bug her but she couldn't place why.

"It wasn't dropped off by an owl, was it?" Someone had been here. She glanced at the sink and saw two other used mugs. Someone had been here recently.

"We have orders, Hermione. They're in that package. Separate orders." He choked out. He was upset about this, but why? They were friends, sure, if that's how you could define it, but you'd think he would be excited to get back out in the fighting away from the gray. Unless…

"Draco…" she moved quickly, wrapping her arms around him. She wasn't sure what caused her to do it. Outside of his nightly visits, they had never so much had touched, but when he tightened his arms around her in turn, she was sure she made the right decision. There was one reason he'd be upset. They're sending him back … as a spy.

She wasn't sure how long they stood there. Surely their breakfast was cold. She didn't even care that other people had been there, didn't care who. Neither wanted to move from this moment. She could feel his heartbeat against her. She inhaled his scent, sure this would be her last opportunity. The Order wasn't one for games. Once you received a mission, you left instantly. It was a tactic to keep Death Eaters from gaining intelligence. Perhaps they had already waited too long. Perhaps there were Order members at risk because Draco and Hermione refused to leave the others grasp and open the package.

Regaining her level-headedness, Hermione was the first to pull away understanding the urgency.

"Who delivered it?" She asked, not sure if she wanted to know. The Order had specific messengers for each safe house, so as to keep their location as secret as possible. Who delivered it could also indicate who has been lost. Her eyes teared at the thought.

"Lupin and Longbottom, neither of which were excited to find us in the same bed," he had a slight tinge of humor to his voice. He had never mentioned it – their nights together – so why now?

"Oh," she said, catching her breath, "that means they're both safe! We've lost none from our team!" Hopefully this was a good sign for the rest as well.

Sitting at the table, both staring at the package, he made to open it first.

"We may as well get on with it, unless you have a reason to object," he said, already halfway through opening it. She knew it was futile. He tossed her an envelope and began staring at the rest of the contents.

"I've been called back to Hogwarts," she whispered. This meant one thing. Battle was coming, and soon. They would need her skilled wand as an extra healer on the field. She laid the letter down, unsure of how to feel. Not a word, nothing from the Order for months, and now this. She was unprepared. Her eyes began to water.

"Hermione…" Draco had been staring at her. His voice was soft. His hand was reaching for her.

"I'm fine. I promise." She sniffed back the tears. "What about you?" She was curious, if the battle was coming, how they would be separated.

"Malfoy Manor. It seems I'm to return home, play the part of the sinning son, beg for forgiveness, and figure out their strategy." He stared at her, no sarcasm in his voice. He was scared. He knew that returning home meant almost certain death, but he'd never voice it. The Order was trying to get rid of him before the battle, before they had to grant him amnesty, unless…

"If you can get _any_ information that will help us, you're sure to be pardoned! I'd never… I'd never…" she couldn't finish. She wanted to tell him she'd never let Harry take him away after all of this, she'd never let them send him to Azkaban. She couldn't. The tears were rolling freely now. He was at her side in an instant, wrapping her in his arms, carrying her to the sitting room.

"Hermione, I knew this was coming. I made a lot of mistakes in the past. The Order is just reminding me of that." This didn't help. To her, he wasn't the same person. He had changed. Why would the side she fought for, the Light, the side that was meant to represent good, do this to him? To her? Surely they knew what would happen. Surely they knew what she would think.

"Draco," that was all she could whisper before his lips were on hers. She had never felt anything like it. They were softer than velvet, tasted of coffee and spearmint, and fit hers perfectly. Much like his presences fending off the nightmares, his lips pushed away all of her fears. He was gentle, so gentle, with her. It briefly crossed her mind that this was their goodbye.

She pulled away, staring him in the eye.

"When?" she asked.

"Tomorrow. 8 pm." He knew she needed the details. She always had to understand. It was part of what attracted him to her. "You?"

"Tuesday. At 3. Draco, I'm not ready for this. I thought I'd be well trained, prepared, but I don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I can take a life, even if it's for the right cause!" She was becoming slightly hysterical.

"Granger, listen to me. This isn't you. And you won't have to! I'm sure Potter and Weasley will have you in a secure area of the castle, doing what you do best. If you _do_, don't think about it. Imagine they're sleeping. Don't let it tear apart your beautiful soul." He stared at her. He wanted so badly for her to believe she'd be safe, but he knew that was unlikely. If the final battle was taking place at Hogwarts, nowhere was safe.

"And you? Are your orders to play the part until the end? What side will you be marching into battle on, Draco?" This thought irritated her more than anything, that the Order would use him as a pawn.

"I will play my part. I will do what I'm told, Hermione, to the death. I swear to you I will not raise my arm in harm to a fellow Order member, though." She knew he meant it, but why was he making her promises?

"I need some air. I need to think," she said, untangling herself from his body, walking towards the patio. The entire property had been swept, all traces of dark magic removed. Now it was one of the safest places on earth and in four days she would be leaving it. It wasn't until this moment that she appreciated her haven, her escape from reality. Now it was being taken from her, along with her only companion. It wasn't fair.

She walked the gardens, the yards, until the sun was beginning to set. Surely she should have stopped to eat or drink by now, her body was crying for it, but her brain was winning. Playing through every detail she knew, as limited as they were, something just wasn't adding up. Moody would never send Draco directly to his death, not if he had defected. They had known he was here, so he was obviously a true Order member. Nobody else but her team could find the safe house. Lupin and Neville had seen them in bed together. Perhaps this was the cause? Saving her the trouble of explaining things to Harry and Ron? But the mission was written before that… That could only mean one thing: Moody was dead.

There was someone else in charge of their lives, of this elaborate chess game, and to them, Draco was disposable. Sure, he would feed lies about the Order's plan to infiltrate and protect Hogwarts, but he wouldn't make it through the battle alive! They knew this. They knew he would be executed, likely publically as a spy, and had felt no shame in sending him to do so. Who could be this cold, this calculating?

But why did she care? He was just a warm body. Company. Companionship. But nothing more. He helped break up the monotony, but she would be just fine without him as before. She had nursed him back to health, but they owed each other nothing. That was clear. It was her duty. Now that he was a fit soldier, he was to return to war. She had other charges to tend to. He meant nothing to her.

She was too drained to eat and instead drew herself a bath. The warm water relaxed her aching muscles, but her thoughts failed to recede. Tonight was her last night here with him, then she'd be alone again. The pain of that thought stung her somewhere deep inside. She couldn't lie, she'd miss his late night visits. She was afraid of the nightmares returning again. Afraid of all she feared coming true in the blackness of night. Afraid of there being nobody around when she screamed out.

She was afraid of losing him. The reality of that made her eyes tear up again. She had never thought of him in that sense, as more than company, but over the last few months, she had grown undeniably close to him, gotten to know him. And that was over. Sobs began to wrack her body. She was trying to remain quiet, knowing that if he was anywhere nearby he'd hear. She couldn't handle him seeing her in this condition, didn't want that to be his final memory, so she steeled herself to remain calm. As she was wrapping herself in a soft towel, staring into the mirror, an idea struck her, a way to tell him all she was feeling and fearing. Tonight.

She knew he would come, and pretended to be asleep earlier than usual. Almost as soon as she was in bed after turning out her lights, he was there. Silent as always, but she felt his presence. Perhaps he didn't want to waste any time, either. Perhaps he would have came regardless of whether she was asleep. But it's best not to think right now, that'd reduce her to tears again, and she needs to get through this.

He laid in bed next to her. As he settled, she felt his obvious surprise. She had nothing but the Order issued pajamas, so she had taken a risk. He recovered quickly, wrapping his arm around her warm, naked body. She relaxed against him, in the comfort of the routine. The darkness helped her hide her blush as his fingers began to trace circles across her abdomen. She had never let anyone touch her like this, or presented herself to anyone in this manner. But she wasn't nervous. In fact, the longer his finger drew circles, the most confident she became.

She felt the heat growing in the pit of her stomach as his circles began to move lower. She knew she wouldn't be able to keep up the act for long. "Draco," she choked. She could feel him smirk against her chest.

"I didn't think you were really asleep. Good. I wanted you to be awake anyway." His hand dipped between her legs, his fingers teasing her. She let out a soft moan at the feeling. She had never felt anything like it.

"Please…" she wasn't sure what to ask for, what to say. She hadn't really thought he would stay once he realized she was awake, but now that she had him, she was unsure of what to do.

"Shh. Just feel, Hermione. I know it's hard for you to not think," he let out a small laugh, "but for tonight, for now, just feel. Please?" His voice sounded slightly desperate, as if she was giving him exactly what he was hoping for already, but they both needed more.

She shifted her head to meet his lips as his fingers kept moving below. She couldn't help making a very unladylike noise as his fingers entered her, slowly moving in and out, stretching her. He smirked against her lips. Apparently he liked her noises, she committed to memory.

All too soon he broke their kiss and removed his fingers, resulting in a whimper of complaint from Hermione, before she realized her was repositioning himself. His lips attacked her neck, biting, sucking, kissing, and licking everywhere he could reach. He was like a starved man. Hermione wrapped her legs around him to pull him closer and tangled her fingers in his hair.

Draco's kisses moved down over her breasts, memorizing her body, her abdomen, up and down her legs, before settling between them.

"Hermione, I should have…" he was flushed, staring up at her from the spot between her legs.

"Don't think, remember?" She was panting, excited for him to continue.

He didn't need telling twice. His tongue darted between her lips, finding the sensitive spot, while his fingers resumed their previous work. When she began moaning, unable to fight it any longer, the sounds spurred him on.

Hermione could feel it building, her orgasm, but was determined to hold off until they would come together.

"Draco," her hands still tangled in his blond locks lifted his head from her body, "please." She knew exactly what she was asking for now, her lust-filled eyes met his and he responded in kind. Moving back up her body, he captured her lips in another gentle kiss as he pushed himself inside of her.

She had never felt anything like it, wanting to explode but not being able to. He fit inside her perfectly. He continued to kiss her as the pain ebbed away and she adjusted to the feeling before moving himself in and out of her at a slow pace.

It only took moments for Hermione to begin matching his rhythm, her hips meeting his with every thrust. She was sure she was going to come, and by the look on Draco's face, he wasn't far behind. His eyes were closed tight, as if lost in thought. Hermione ran her thumb across his eyebrow, caressing his face. He met her eyes, his shining a bright blue of happiness, before they came.

Draco fell limply on Hermione's body, their sweat mixing. He rested his forehead on hers.

"That was long overdue," he breathed out. She laughed. She wasn't sure where it came from, but it was the first true laugh she had experienced in months.

Draco pulled out of her, rolling to the side, before gathering her in his arms. Hermione's head rested on his chest, her fingers drawing circles. His steady heartbeat kept her company.

"What are you thinking?" She asked, raising her head to meet his eyes.

He hesitated, staring at her, running his fingers through her tangled mane.

"No matter what happens, no matter where they send us, Hermione, we're making it out of this war alive, and I _will_ come back for you," he said confidently.

For some reason, Hermione couldn't help but believe him. As they dozed off, still wrapped in each other's arms, she was sure he'd still be there when she woke.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione opened her eyes; at least she thought she had. It was still as dark as it had been before. Where was she? Why was it so dark? She began to panic, old memories flooding back to her, terror gripping her.

"Hello?" She whispered, afraid to make any noises, afraid they would come back for her. She rolled over and realized the clock was blinking. The power had gone out. She was in her bed, in her house, safe. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

She looked to her other side, the spot where he should be, but he was gone. The bed was cold. Panic tore at her again. Something was definitely wrong.

Hermione jumped out of bed, tangling herself in her sheets as she went, falling onto the wood floor. "Bloody hell!" she screamed, "LUMOS!"

The room illuminated at the sound of her voice, her wandless magic had worked. There, in a corner of the room, laughing silently, was Draco Malfoy, with a book in hand.

"You must really have nightmares when I get out of bed," he laughed, "I wasn't sure if you were actually awake." He put his book down and started towards her.

"I can do it," she huffed, standing up to untangle herself. "Couldn't sleep?" She asked, not meeting his eyes. She knew he couldn't sleep. Not tonight. It was a miracle she had gotten a few hours.

"It's almost 4 in the morning, I was thinking of going for a jog, maybe apparate to some ocean, get some fresh air, then maybe we can get breakfast?" He questioned, finally reaching her.

"Draco…" she started. She wanted to say not today. Today was not a day to enjoy each other. Today was a day for mourning, for remembering the ones they lost. Today she should be with her family. Instead, she knew he needed her today, "that sounds lovely," she finished, tossing the blankets back onto the bed. He smiled at her, kissed her cheek, and apparated away. She knew he would be gone for an hour or two, and she knew he wasn't going running.

Since there was no chance of going back to sleep now, Hermione made for the shower. Something hot enough to calm her and productive enough to keep her mind off things. Four years. Four years to the day. So much had changed, but she couldn't think of those things now. Today was a day of remembrance.

Hermione dutifully finished her shower, dried her hair, and picked out a simple black dress and a black set of robes, then headed to start breakfast for Draco when he returned. A part of her had wished they would have had children by now, she could use the distraction of a noisy house, but was glad they hadn't brought life into this unsure world. She didn't need another thing to worry about.

Draco walked into the kitchen, freshly showered, as if on cue. He knew her and her routines too well.

"Did you enjoy your run?" Hermione asked as she separated the bacon and eggs onto two plates.

"Immensely," Draco responded, still sounding winded, "it was just what I needed before today. You should have came with me," he offered.

"Had I been asked, I might have," she teased. Teasing felt wrong to her today. They always teased over breakfast in the morning, but today felt different. She turned her back so he wouldn't see the tears forming against her eyes and grabbed two coffee mugs.

"You were reading?" she questioned. He nodded. "What?"

"Hermione, we have a vast library, does it matter?" Draco was distracted reading the Prophet that had been delivered while he was out. She knew what he was looking for; she was trying to keep him distracted.

"I was just wondering if it was muggle or wizard," she mused, taking a bite of her eggs.

"Right… what time do we need to arrive by?" She didn't want to have this conversation, to think about the reality.

"Eleven. I thought maybe, instead of apparating, we could take the train. I do miss the train." She was reminiscing of a time long ago, when decisions were simpler.

He stared at her. Merlin, he would do anything for the beauty in front of him. Her face was still pink from where she cried in the shower. She would say she scrubbed too hard but he knew. He knew what this day did to her, same as it did every year. That's why he couldn't sleep; he had to make sure she stayed safe from herself.

"Love, I think the train is completely booked. So many people…" he wanted to continue, to convince her they would be better apparating. He didn't want to take the train; the last time he took a train was sixth year. He didn't want to remember the days he used to torment her. Her eyes showed her disappointment. "…what if we go away, on holiday, tonight after everything is over. We can take a train to the sea, just the two of us?" he offered. He knew it wasn't the same, but maybe she would see reason. They could make better memories this time. Just not on the train she wanted.

"I would have to find someone to watch the shop while we were gone," Hermione mused. He knew she would agree, she always agreed, "perhaps Ginny wouldn't mind." Her mind was on details now, and that would keep her distracted long enough to get her there.

Too soon Draco's watch signaled it was 10:30.

"Time to go, love," he offered his hand, "We'll have to take a carriage from the village." He wasn't sure why he was saying these things. Hermione already knew. It was the same every year. He wrapped his arms around her, wondering if it was to protect her or calm him.

In an instant they were looking around the sights and sounds of Hogsmeade. People were bustling around, the train having just arrived, looking for loved ones, old friends, and transportation to the old castle. Hermione felt like she was the only one remembering the serious, somber reason they were here today. Everyone else was jovial and very much in the holiday spirit.

"Why everything happened so close to Christmas, why this month will forever hold bad memories…" she was close to tears again, still in her husband's arms.

"Love, it's okay," he whispered in her ear.

"Draco, look around, so many people… They've been able to pick up and move on, to start focusing on the positive in life. Maybe I'm just broken." She let out real tears at that thought.

"Hermione Granger, broken. Never thought I'd hear the day," he joked, "Love, you're one of the strongest people I know. You went through more, saw more, lost more than most of these people would ever know. You live a productive happy life 364 days a year. You're allowed one day to mourn for those you lost." He was staring down at her. She could feel his steel gray eyes on her. She knew he was talking reasonably, but today she didn't care for reason.

Today she had to remember everyone who gave their lives four years ago. The young, Colin Creevey, the talented, Fred Weasley, the trained, Remus Lupin and Tonks, the brave… oh, so many brave people. She didn't want to remember them today. She didn't want to be here. She never thought Hogwarts would be home to so many bad memories.

Draco opened the door of the carriage for her and guided her in. He knew she would definitely enjoy that holiday after this, and he would need a strong glass of Firewhiskey. He wasn't sure why they had a somber memorial service every year, why people couldn't remember their loved ones without everyone coming together and bringing up bad feelings. The first year, nobody spoke to Hermione, and she was thankful, but with each passing year, people commented on her presence, her marriage, and her decisions during the war. It took everything Draco had to not hex every single one of them.

But he was thankful she let him deal with the war in his own way. His father was still in Azkaban, his mother alone at the Manor. Each year, he started the day by paying them a visit in kind. Reminding them of their decisions, and offering them forgiveness. Each year they dismissed him. Hermione never offered to come along, not that he would blame her after everything she suffered at his hand, but she let him pretended to go running, to go fishing, whatever he claimed to do, and was there with breakfast when he returned.

They had become each other's strength and fortress. He wondered when that was. Maybe it was when they found each other at the safe house. Maybe it was when she saved his life, again, on the battlefield. But he would die for her, he knew that with absolute certainty. He never regretted a moment of his decision to defect, and he ended up with the greatest prize of all. He would never understand what made her, in all of her perfection, love him in return.

The carriage stopped in front of the entrance to the castle long before Draco was ready.

"Here goes nothing," Hermione said to herself more than him as she stepped out into the snowy grass. He was right behind her. He had hardly left her side since that first night. She loved that about him. He knew how to support her without being overbearing, and sometimes she wouldn't have the strength to move if it wasn't for his reassuring touches.

Draco lead her to the chairs by the lake, set up as they were each year, in front of a large white monument that had been erected after the final battle. Hermione took a seat in the second row, Draco by her side. The first row was for Ministry personnel and their families. "I wish we could sit further back," she whispered wrapping her hand in his.

"We tried that the first year, remember?" he laughed, pulling her close, "Everyone thought you were trying to hide me. So here we are, in the 'war hero' section, front and center, so everyone can keep an eye on you and make sure I don't hurt you," He was still teasing.

"War hero, ha!" Hermione said, "If only they knew… well, of course they know, Parvarti made sure it was splashed all over the Daily Prophet, 'Hermione Granger abandons Harry Potter in time of need!' as if…" Hermione was getting upset. She always got upset. Draco hoped the Weasley's and even Potter would arrive quickly so that they wouldn't deal with today alone.

His wish was granted almost as soon as he opened his eyes. A string of red haired adults, all carrying pint-sized versions made their way through the aisle and sat down next to Hermione. He watched as they greeted each other. A part of him ached. Sure, the Weasley family was nice enough to him, but he would never be a part of their inner circle like his Hermione was. He would never know the warmth of a true family.

He stood up to greet the family in turn, as Harry Potter announced he was needed on stage for his annual welcome and moment of silence. Draco wondered how he had survived with the pomp and circumstance. He hated it almost as much as Hermione.

The clock over the castle chimed 11 and everyone took their seats. Harry Potter cordially greeted everyone. He looked so natural on the stage, Hermione thought, but she could tell he was uncomfortable. If they asked any more next year, he might bolt. Harry called for a moment of silence as the service began, a moment to remember those lost, and the difference they made in our lives, a moment to thank them for their sacrifice.

Hermione closed her eyes. Jets of blue and green and red were coming at her from all angles. She ran through the darkness, dodging them at every turn, firing back her own spells. She had a simple mission: keep bodies off the ground. Before the battle had commenced, she had set up a makeshift hospital at the old safe house and grabbed as many small household items as she could. Now she was running for her life, looking around to identify Order members from Death Eaters. Their lives were in her hands.

She spotted a small body lying next to a rock. It had to be a student. As she dashed over there, she pulled out her wand, ready to heal. She noticed the student had been Crucio'd at least once, and needed more serious care. Without hesitation, she pulled out a small thimble, placed it on the student, and activated it, sending them directly to the safe house.

She saw another body, not too far away, screaming for help. Rushing over there, she noticed the silver mask, and without assessing the injury, placed a button on his chest, sending him directly to Azkaban. It was her system, and it was working well.

If an Order member couldn't be healed immediately, they were sent to the safe house for protection until they could be moved to St. Mungos. If a Death Eater was injured, or if she just happened to catch them off guard, they were sent to Azkaban to be held for trial.

If she found them and they were already gone… she couldn't think about that, not with him out here somewhere. Luckily she hadn't come across any dead bodies yet, she hadn't figured out where to send them.

She was hoping she would find him out here, that he had made it this far. It had been two weeks since he left the safe house, and two weeks since she had even known if he was alive. But she believed with every fiber of her being that he was out here, and she was going to find him tonight.

Hermione dodged a Stunning Spell and ran for the tree line of the Forbidden Forest. She saw him then, out of the corner of her eye, leaning against a tree. She knew it was him before he said anything.

Hermione ran to him.

"Draco, oh, Draco, what's wrong?" She was looking for any visible signs of injury, anything she could heal, she couldn't stand seeing him hurt.

He coughed.

"I was supposed to save you," he whispered, "I was supposed to save you…" He was close to fainting. Hermione wasn't sure what had been done to him, but she had to get him out of here, away from this place. She gathered her wits and thought of the safest place she knew, closed her eyes, and apparated them.

Draco collapsed on Hermione's childhood bed, dizzy, sick, and faint.

Hermione opened her eyes at the sound of people shuffling.

"Well, that was a tad bit better than last year. Oh, how I miss Fred," Molly Weasley was wiping her nose. Hermione was confused.

"It's over?" She asked, looking around at people greeting each other.

"Love, we've been here two hours, are you feeling alright?" Draco squeezed her hand and helped her out of her chair.

"I think I need to go lay down, Draco," Hermione was certain she saw a phoenix fly across the sky before she hit the ground.


End file.
